


Reunited

by caelysium



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, other mentioned characters - Freeform, this was written on a whim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelysium/pseuds/caelysium
Summary: The last thing Robert Lightwood saw was his son, his own blue eyes reflecting a world of devastation as they watched him fall, but his last thoughts were only of his long-lost parabatai.





	Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> So ahaha, guess who woke up at 4am one day and decided, hey, instead of studying, lets write a little fic about Waywood because I searched up the art done by Cassandra Jean on a whim and became a blubbering mess and there isn't enough afterlife!fics to heal my soul. Hence, here we are.
> 
> Please don't mind the loads of mistakes (and probably numerous head-canons because I've not touched Tales and LoS ever since I read them oops) because this is my 4am mind just pouring out all of my emotions.
> 
> Enjoy ;)

The last thing Robert Lightwood saw was his son, his own blue eyes reflecting a world of devastation as they watched him fall, but his last thoughts were only of his long-lost parabatai.

_Michael._

His name echoed in his mind, giving way to images of a handsome, laughing face that transformed into hurt so deep it almost speared Robert’s soul in half as he regretted ever making his best friend look like that for the rest of his living years. He had always, always wanted to fall at Michael’s feet and beg for forgiveness, but his pride and family and banishment prevented him from doing so. When Jace had been taken in, Robert thought that this was the least he could do for his parabatai, heart squeezing as he searched the young boy for his Michael and not finding the characteristic dark curls and hazel eyes that he had once loved so dearly.

_His Michael._

Maryse, sharp as usual, regarded him more frequently from then, noticing the sadness etched into his features but never questioning him about it as they sleep in separate bedrooms. Max’s birth had reconciled them but they would never be as they used to.

When Jace was revealed to not be Jonathan Wayland, Robert’s parabatai rune burned in phantom pain as he recalled his best friend, who even in death was used by Valentine. Robert had never felt so much hate for the man as he did then, but he also never felt so much disgust for himself, both for following Valentine loyally and for believing he could atone for his own wrongdoings by taking care of Michael’s son, who ended up not being his at all.

_Michael, I—_

As he noticed the shy looks Alexander sent to the ever-dense Jace, he thought about how cruel it was that history was to replay again, except now the Lightwood has fallen for the Wayland. He was harsh to Alec; he didn’t want the same thing to happen: a friendship broken because of a love that wasn’t allowed in their world. Because if Jace’s reaction turned out to be anything close to his own, Alec would surely be the one to fall apart. When Jace’s parentage was being passed around like a stele and Alec began seeing the High Warlock of Brooklyn, Robert was, horribly, jealous of his son, because he never got to see a smile so bright on Michael ever again.

_Michael—_

And he realized that to honour his parabatai he should make sure of Alec’s happiness, because he never gave that to Michael. It was hard, getting over his own prejudice for Downworlders that was ingrained from his Circle days, but also trying to mend the gaping crevice between him and Alec that had formed over the past decade because of his absence. He truly did love his son, and he regretted not building their relationship sooner. When little blue Max was adopted, he jumped in for the opportunity to be more integrated into their life, and he adored his grandchild. Even Rafael warmed up to him eventually, and he revered in being able to be a constant, loving familial figure right from their beginnings.

Of course, it was then that Robert had to die, dreaming of a future with his grandchildren that he could never have anymore as the pain crawled up his chest like fire. His sins—for never loving his children as he did outwardly, especially to his Alec whose kindness and soft heart reminded him so much of his Michael, and for that very pivotal moment where he threw away the best thing that ever happened to him—were shoved back into his face; this was judgement delivered.

_Michael, I’m sorry._

 

His soul wandered in the dark for a while, waiting to be sent off to wherever it was that souls went after passing. Robert didn’t necessarily believe in a tangible heaven, but he would’ve liked to if it meant that he could see Michael again. His ghost flittered in and out of the curtain splitting the living and the dead, and seeing the wreckage upon his children’s expressions as they mourned him was death tenfold. He was so grateful for their love because he felt so undeserving of it. He grasped at his last words to Alec, to Isabelle, to Jace and wished that they had been _I love you_ instead.

For now, the afterlife seemed bleak and boring, and Robert wondered if this was to be his destiny, to float at the edge of the living world forever because of all the unfinished business he felt he had.

That is, until he noticed the burning pyre, so tall it touched the sky, at the edge of his vision after an unknowable length of time (how would time work after death?), built for him and Livia Blackthorn and all that died in the Accords Hall that day. They had all passed on without a problem, leaving Robert here, alone.

Robert watched Maryse, her face lined with grief, and wished her all the best, apologizing for never giving her the love she deserved. He watched his children and the tears streaming down their cheeks, and knew that all he wanted was to bid them a final farewell. He felt his soul blurring at the edges, a warmth whisking him away, and he knew that he would finally see his love again.

_Michael…_

But just before his soul disappeared from Earth, he noticed a familiar figure near the edges of the pyre. He was far away, but the dark curls were unmistakable, and Robert stared at his parabatai as he raised a hand rest on Robert’s empty body. Robert started and reached out desperately, Michael’s name spilling from his lips but making no sound. Because if Michael was a ghost then he wouldn’t be able to reach him in the afterlife and he had to _he had to—_

The world brightened into a white so blinding it hurt his eyes.

Then he was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground.

Robert groaned, his arm hurting from the impact. Could you feel physical pain even after death? Because then what was the whole fucking point?

He rubbed the spot near his shoulder, sitting up and looking around. Green grass stretched for as far as he can see, like the fields outside of Alicante. The blue sky above him was dotted with fluffy, white clouds. It was quiet, peaceful; a breeze tousled the edges of his hair as he raised his head towards the sun and sighed. Alright, so heaven wasn’t too bad.

Laughter reached his ears and he turned to see Michael Wayland, standing ten feet away, eyes alight with mirth as he observed his sprawled-out figure in the grass. He didn’t look a day past twenty.

“You’re like an old man, Robert.”

Robert scrambled to his feet, chest tightening with pain and relief. Michael looked at him without hate, and he couldn’t believe it when he detested himself so much for all his life that he had wished he could die at times. He took a step forward and stopped, mouth opened to joke back. He saw his best friend, his parabatai, and the love that rushed into his body was so overwhelming that it almost knocked him off his feet because _why couldn’t he have realized before?_

“I’m so sorry.”

The words tumbled out and dropped onto the ground between them. Robert stood there nervously, wondering if he could ever apologize enough for Michael to forgive him. He certainly didn’t forgive himself.

Michael grinned, a hint of sadness in the curve of his lips. He shook his head and held out his hands. “You idiot.”

Robert stumbled into the arms of his best friend, wrapping his own around Michael’s familiar, smaller frame and relishing in the warmth that emitted from his body. Robert was never known to cry, but he did now. Death must have removed all that was hard within him as he finally broke apart for the man he loved more than anyone.

 _I’m sorry_ became a mantra, hiccupped into Michael’s shoulders as Robert sobbed, desperately hoping that this wasn’t just heaven’s cruel trick. Michael’s hands gently skimmed up Robert’s back to his shoulder blades and pressed him closer. They clung together, the decades of unspoken phrases alight in the air between them.

When Michael pulled away, Robert refused to let him go far, and Michael smiled within the protective circle of his parabatai. He cupped Robert’s face gently, smoothing away the tear tracks with the pads of his thumbs. Their eyes met, and by the Angel had he missed those flecks of green scattered amongst a sea of dark gold. Michael’s gaze flicked downward, and this time Robert refused to make the same mistake: he leaned in without hesitation. Their lips met softly, Michael smiling into the kiss and causing Robert’s heart to soar. When their mouths opened to each other, he felt the ground drop from below his feet as all of his suppressed feelings rose to the surface akin to a tidal wave. When he weaved his fingers through those dark curls, Michael sighed, and Robert tugged their bodies closely enough so that any space between them was extinguished. They fit perfectly together, pieces of a puzzle finally finding their match, and he wondered how he could have ever been _so fucking stupid._

When they broke apart and fell to the ground, having all the liberties of time now that they were in the afterlife, Robert apologized, over and over with Michael in his arms, until his voice became hoarse. Then they talked, hands linked between them as they watched the clouds pass by in the sky, about Robert’s miserable life, about his children, about the battles they fought and won; they talked of Michael’s own premature passing, of his beautiful son who was currently being taken care of by Eliza Rosewain elsewhere in this paradise, of his occasional visits into the material world as a ghost.

“I missed you so much,” Michael murmured, brushing his lips over the hollow of Robert’s throat that elicited a noise of contentment from him even as his chest contracted.

“I missed you too—more than anyone else. I was so stupid.”

Michael shifted so that he was leaning on his crossed arms that rested upon Robert’s chest. He smiled at him, eyes skimming over his features as if memorizing his face. “You have an eternity to make up for it.”

Robert gently brought Michael down to kiss him again. Laughter bubbled up from within him, and he felt lighter than he’d ever felt before. The fond expression Michael sent him was all the more incentive to pull him forward again, but Michael blocked the attempt, still smiling but pushing off from the ground so that he was sitting and gesturing for Robert to do the same. “Wait. I think there’s someone here who has been waiting to see you again.”

Robert’s heart skipped a beat, knowing full well who Michael was referring to. He sat up to see a figure running towards them, black hair blown wild in the wind and glasses askew. His blue eyes were beautifully alight with happiness, and Robert was crying again before he knew it.

“ _Max._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so, let me know if there are any corrections I should make because I didn't do my research beforehand :D


End file.
